


As the World Burns Around Us

by Larkawolfgirl



Series: Dare to Write Challenge [15]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Parallels, Pre-Canon, Regis/Aulea - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkawolfgirl/pseuds/Larkawolfgirl
Summary: The end will come for them eventually—they will be torn apart one way or another.





	1. Unquenchable Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dare to Write challenge prompt "fated to die." Broken into chapters since each segment felt stronger that way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis seeks comfort in Clarus over his grief over Aulea's death.

It’s sometime deep into the night when the knock comes—Clarus spares no time to glance at the clock, intuition driving him to the door in a handful of seconds. Regis stands there, weary and rain-soaked, eyes red and rimmed. Clarus hesitates but a moment before pulling his king into a tight embrace, hands clinging yet vigilantly proper. As much as it kills Clarus not to know what has brought his king to this wretched state, he abstains from asking, and a long silence passes before Regis mutters in a voice just as broken as he appears, “she’s gone.” That is all, but it is enough.

Regis is trembling in his hold, and Clarus forces ingrained regulations aside and holds him closer—really holds him. Soon, Regis’ forehead rests itself on his collarbone so that he can feel the heat of his heavy breath through the thin fabric of his nightshirt.

“I love you,” he says, but Clarus knows what he really means is _I loved her._ It is no lie, but it is no confession either. They are past that, treaded the thin ice of precarious feelings long ago when hormones were an unfamiliar topic. No, this is a plea—a submission.

Regulations play in Clarus’ mind, but they no longer matter and he presses his face into his king’s greying hair. It is damp and reminds him of days past when he would towel at it with meticulous care after a playful shower. “I know,” he whispers, close to a confession—not quite but close enough for Regis to inhale sharply.

Regis meets his eyes, and Clarus realizes that he is shaking as well once their lips meet. It is like riding a bike, something that feels both innocently nostalgic and stimulated with the height of life. Their bodies remember, even as emotion fumbles their movements.

Clarus can feel Regis’ sorrow, his grief, and a growl forms in his throat, fist clenching at his back. He has long since made peace with the fact that he will die for his king, but seeing his love heartbroken is worse than death ever could be. If it were possible to hurt this affliction, he would. He would strangle the breath right out of this grief so that there was nothing left to linger. But this is impossible, so he does all that he knows how. He kisses, and strokes, and whispers. Until eventually, both of them can almost forget that Gladiolus is sleeping in the next room and that Noctis is fragile and alone miles away. Until Regis pretends to believe him that this pain will one day disappear, that one day he will feel whole again.

When the dawn finds them nestled together in his bed, light splintering in aquamarine waves through the open window, Clarus grasps his hand tight enough to be painful and says with the beginning of tears sitting in his eyes, “I’ll be with you until the very end.” How he longs to be able to promise more, to be able to promise what he deserves (forever, a guarantee), but this is all he has: devotion.

The end will come for them eventually—they will be torn apart one way or another—and as much as Regis surely fears it, Clarus vows he will not outlive is king.


	2. When the Dust Clears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally sinks in that Regis is dying.

The cusp of morning is Clarus’ favorite time of day since it grants him leisure to take Regis in. His calm resting expression, the gentle gap of his lips, his beautiful lashes fluttering the tiniest bit as his eyes shift beneath their lids in sleep. Yet this morning these bring Clarus little comfort. It is as if he is seeing clearly for the first time. Regis’ hair is almost entirely grey now and wrinkles weigh down his face. The width of his hip is too narrow in Clarus’ grasp, his legs too boney against Clarus’ own. He shifts the blanket, examining the jutting of spine and rib bones.

Regis is withering away before his eyes, and there is nothing he can do about it.

He tugs the man deeper into his chest, fully aware of how frail he feels in his hold.

Regis jolts awake. “Clarus?” he questions, voice groggy from sleep.

“Nothing.” He swallows the lump in his throat and kisses at the crown of his head.

Regis sighs, and it somehow comes out both satisfied as well as irritated. “I will not force you to speak your mind, but you know how I hate to be left in the dark.”

Clarus releases a tremulous breath. “You are dying.” The words are harsh enough to cut.

“Yes,” Regis finally breathes out in return.

There is silence as reality sinks upon them with ugly finality. Clarus has vowed to die to protect his monarch, but now he wonders for the first time if he will have the chance. Fate is cruel indeed.

“Do not mourn for me.” Clarus snaps his gaze down to his at the statement. “We have had a good go. If only I could give Noctis as much.”

The shield shuts his eyes in dismay at his selfishness. For Regis is right. They have known for quite some time of the young prince’s fate. Regis may crawl closer toward death with each passing day, but Noctis will be forced to jump straight into it. And as much as seeing his king writher away kills him inside, what will become of his dear Gladiolus when he realizes he never had a chance to save his own?

It is unfair, but they are damn lucky to have been given this time. To have been granted these years together, their beautiful children, and these mutual feelings that continued to linger just as strong through those few years of drought. These are things their sons can never have.

“We should warn them,” he says out of pity.

Regis shakes his head just as Clarus knew he would. “We cannot risk it. Noctis will learn of his fate once he is ready to embrace it.”

Spurred by the words, Clarus tightens his arms around Regis, as if doing so could make fate easier to embrace in turn.

It doesn’t.


	3. Like Parent, Like Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarus's dreaded suspicious is revealed to be true.

Clarus does not know his heart can break so until he stumbles upon their sons together that day in the library. Their laughing faces are impossibly close, hands entwined with naïve promise. The sight is as endearing as it is heart-wrenching. It is with a clenching heart and stinging eyes that he retreats to the royal bedchamber. It is not that he never suspected, only that he prayed to every Astral that it was not so.

Regis looks up from the papers spread across his desk at his abrupt entrance. “What is wrong?”

“Gladiolus and Noctis, they…” He cannot even bring himself to speak it aloud, as if refusing to do so will make it untrue.

Regis sets his pen down with a loud thump and leans back in the wooden desk chair. “I feared as much.” His words come out too calm for Clarus’ tastes.

Clarus approaches him with quick steps, caught between anger and sorrow, but sorrow wins and he slumps at his lover’s side. His head falls to his thin lap and Regis pets at his hair with gaunt fingers.

He does not understand, Clarus tells himself. He cannot understand what it is to swear to die to protect the one you love only to fail. He knows this makes things worse but cannot understand that this will break Gladiolus’ very soul.

And so Regis cries along with him, but only Clarus sobs, because only Clarus understands.


	4. With a Whisper Instead of a Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They will die here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is not compliant with the scene in Kingsglaive, and I'm sorry I suck so bad at writing fight scenes.

Drautos is charging at them. Clarus can see him clearly through the flimsy shield Regis has constructed around them with the last of his magic. He knows there is little time, that he needs to be preparing his fighting stance and planning out strategies—his head is screaming it, but his heart is screaming louder. He takes Regis’ hand in his, focusing on the strength there instead of the curve of his bones. Despite everything, Regis holds his head high, carries his burden with enduring shoulders.

They will die here. It is as inevitable as the rising sun. But the grief Clarus has felt in wait of this moment is suddenly replaced with peace. They are together and they will die fighting.

It is more than either of them could have wished for.

Drautos is upon them now. Clarus’ hand falls away to steady his sword. It only takes about a minute for Regis to cry out in exertion as the magic shield falls. That is all the time he needs to move in front of him. Drautos’ sword clashes with his own and he holds him off long enough for Regis to build up enough magic for a blast. However, his magic is too weak now from years of overuse, and Drautos recovers quickly. The traitor flings Clarus into the far wall with superhuman strength.

Drautos closes in on Regis, sword drawn. Regis is fighting back as best he can but everything in Clarus is screaming at him to get in-between him and that blade. He ignores how his bones ache in protest and rush strikes at their assailant’s back. However, he turns at the last second, catching Clarus off guard. His sword cleaves right into Clarus’ heart as his own sword stands high and useless in the air.

Blood rises to Clarus’ mouth before his body crumbles to the ground. He should feel ashamed of his own uselessness, yet there is only relief. Saving Regis was never a possibility, yet he has succeeded in protecting him. It does not matter that it was pointless because he has proven his promise. A smile falls into place.

His king will outlive him, if only for a moment.


End file.
